


Performance Anxiety

by ImaSleepyBear



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Concerts, Drug Use, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen, Phase Two (Gorillaz)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaSleepyBear/pseuds/ImaSleepyBear
Summary: Noodle refuses to perform at a concert, but 2D brings her around.Based on their live performance at the MTV awards: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BdAXIj5QViw





	Performance Anxiety

November, 2005

 “I don’t care, Noodle. You’re a member of this band,” Russel said. “And as such, you have to go on stage even when you’re in a bad mood, just like the rest of us.”

Noodle crossed her arms and turned her head away. “No! I not going! I play back here!” Her English had improved over the years, but her grammar still slipped up whenever she was cranky.

“Here, let me give it a go,” Murdoc muttered. He nudged the drummer aside and knelt down to speak to the teenage girl at eye level. “Noods, love, this is a pretty important gig here.” He spoke in the soft voice he used with nobody but Noodle. “It’s the MTV awards. Tha’s a big deal! It’s not jus’ some rubbish concert in a backwater town. The whole world will see this! We gotta have the whole band out there on stage. So would you please go? For us?”

Noodle said nothing.

2D glanced at the rappers. They slouched against the wall at the other end of the room and watched the battle of wills. They looked concerned, but weren’t about to pitch in. 2D sighed and looked at Noodle again. This must be some kind of adolescent thing. How old was she now? Fifteen? Blimey, it couldn’t have been that long since she appeared on their doorstep.

She used to be so excited at concerts. She would jump up and down and headbang like a braindead stoner. Afterwards, she would squeal with delight and go on and on about playing in front of a crowd and what a blast it was. At least, that’s what 2D thought she was chattering about. It was all in Japanese. But that grin on her face got the point across just fine.

It was so much easier in the early days. Just feed her, give her a place to sleep, try to teach her English, let her play guitar. That was it. Now they had to actually, you know, raise her. 2D was at a loss for what to do. Was this just a sullen teenager phase? Did one of the bandmates do something to upset her? Was there a boy? 2D hoped it wasn’t that last one. He was just getting the hang of girls. How the hell was he supposed to explain boys to her?

2D fished around in his bag for his pill bottle. He had his usual dose at the beginning of the day. And then he took another for the pre-show jitters. No matter how many times he performed live, he never felt entirely comfortable with it. He just slouched there awkwardly and wished he was somewhere else. And now Noodle was refusing to perform. 2D popped a pill in his mouth and swallowed it dry. This was going to be a long night.

“It’s go time.” Everyone turned around to see the stage manager standing in the doorway. “Uh, is there a problem? Should we stall?”

Russel shook his head. “No. We can’t delay the performance any longer.” He jerked his thumb towards Noodle. “She’s playing from back here. Set her up with a mic.” He faced her again. “We’re going to have a _long_ talk after this.” He turned around to leave, but stopped to look at Murdoc. “Really? You’re wearing _that_?”

“What? Wha’s wrong wif it?” He was dressed in tighty whities, a cape, and that old SS officer hat.

“...Nevermind. Let’s go.”

The guys filed out into the hallway and headed for the stage. The pills were already clouding 2D’s head. The roar of the crowd grew louder and clearer as they walked, piercing the pharmaceutical fog. Russel climbed the stairs to his drum set. Murdoc got in position for whatever bizarre entrance he was planning to do. The rappers went to the left wing, while 2D moved to the right. Once everyone was in position, the stage manager gave the cue to raise the curtains. The crowd focused and strengthened their cheering, and then quieted down in anticipation.

From the safety of the wing, 2D surveyed the theater. The stage was awash with red lighting in imitation of the music video. Models--or were they dancers? Doesn’t matter--lay in a heap at the front of the stage, another nod to the video. The pills were fogging up his vision, and all the people in the audience blurred together. The spotlights seemed fuzzy and distant. The stage itself faded in and out of focus. Recorded laughter rang from the sound system and echoed through the theater. It cut through the haze in 2D’s mind and dragged him back into the present. He took a deep breath. That was his cue.

2D walked to his spot, trying to look as casual as possible. He suspected he was failing. Even if he didn’t look calm and cool, the crowd still cheered. Then he stumbled. _Shit,_ he thought. I shouldn’t have taken that extra dose. Whatever, just keep walking.

The singer reached the microphone that lay on the floor. He stepped on the bottom of the stand to bring it upright and then reached out to grab it. He missed. Damn it. I _really_ shouldn’t have taken the extra dose. He tried twice more, and then finally got ahold of the stand. Once he had the mic in his hands, he turned around and nodded to Russel. The recorded laughter played again, the drummer tapped the high hat, and 2D sang the first line, “Feels good.”

Over on stage left, Murdoc rose from the ground like Frankenstein. Again, it was a nod to the video. 2D still wasn’t sure how he did that. The obvious answer would be some kind of cable system, but he didn’t see anything like that now or earlier. He sometimes wondered if the bassist really was some kind of demon. Whatever the case, Murdoc reached a standing position and made a face at the audience. They cheered in response.

Alright, things were under way. Even without Noodle, the audience seemed pretty happy. 2D just had to sing the song, and then this terrible evening would be behind him.

It went well at first. The guys knew the song by heart. They knew their parts. Despite their eccentricities, they were trained and experienced professionals. If they wanted to fuck up the song, they would have to make an effort to do so. While the drums were at rest, Russel clapped his hands to keep time. Murdoc behaved himself, and didn’t undress any more than he already had. 2D could hear Noodle’s guitar being piped in through the sound system. The audience clapped along. This was actually turning out to be a decent performance.

Then the rap started.

It was bad.

With one hand on the microphone so he wouldn’t lose it again, 2D pulled out his phone. The screen was a glowing blur, and his thumb didn’t always hit the key he was aiming for, but he managed to fire off a few texts.

 

_Noods, plz comr on stage. Rapoers r bad amd we nred u to save tge show._

_Its not thr same witjout u._

_I dont knoe wgats wrong, or why ur upset, but I promise we’ll fix ut._

_Whatevrrs wronh, i’ll fix it._

_Please, noodle._

 

He kept refreshing his messages, waiting, hoping for a reply. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Noodle walk by.

2D turned around. Noodle had her guitar slung over her shoulder and was walking up to her stool in the middle of the stage, where she should have been all along. Past her, 2D saw Murdoc grinding obscenely against his bass. Whatever. At least the entire band was finally on the stage. Noodle nodded amicably to the rappers and then pulled herself up onto her stool.

The song reached Noodle’s solo, and the lighting focused on her. Murdoc stopped trying to impregnate his guitar and turned to watch. She looked serene as she strummed her guitar, all traces of her earlier fit gone. The audience cheered for the girl, and 2D’s heart swelled with pride. That was his Noodle right there. The baby sister he never had.

The wave of relief and affection left 2D even more exhausted than he already was. Despite the swimmy feeling in his head, he managed to finish out the song. As the rappers took over, 2D turned around and stepped away from the mic. He held his right arm behind his back and wrapped his hand around the other arm, a pose he often assumed when he was feeling self-conscious on stage. He kept his back to the audience to hide the fact that he was fading fast.

The rappers finished their bit, and the music came to a close. The cheers and echoes didn’t reach 2D. The audience, the rappers, the band, all of it was drifting further and further away. 2D closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the back wall. He pressed his palms against the surface to stop himself from crumpling to the ground. Darkness started at the edge of his vision and crept inward. Somewhere behind him, he thought he heard one of the rappers call, “Wake up, man!”

“Wake up!”


End file.
